Tag: guest posts

There are certain moments in life when we wonder “Oops!! How come I missed that person?”

Amit is one among those wonderful and popular bloggers in the country.There could be only two thoughts – either you know Amit or you don’t.If you know Amit,you are going to stop reading rest of this paragraph and jump on to the post.If you don’t know Amit, by the end of this post,you will repeat the dialog which I have written above.

This is a guest post from Amit Sharma and he blogs at Mashed Musings .His posts are widely shared and discussed.He stands out in the crowded blogosphere mainly because of his witty sarcastic posts and his heart to call himself a male-feminist.

Thank you Amit for writing for me.You are simply awesome.

“Am I dreaming?”

“Yes and No. It is difficult to explain. This is real but you are in a dream.”

“Huh?!?”

“Listen. I am bored. I called you here because I think you can make me laugh.”

“Huh?!?”

“I am giving you a power. Make a wish and snap your fingers. It will come true. Don’t do anything stupid. Just try to make me laugh. Okay?”

“How many times can I make a wish?”

“Till my stomach hurts.”

“How will I know that you are laughing?”

A pause.

“A lightening bolt will fall 20 feet away from you.”

I opened my eyes. Did I really dream of sitting on a cloud and talking to a light?

“God is bored? Really? Jesus!”

The first bolt

I took a bus to my office. There was a van following us and its driver was honking uncontrollably. My ears were vibrating at an unacceptable frequency. I looked at my hand.

“What’s the harm?” I murmured.

“If he honks when he should not honk, let him not hear the honk,” I said and snapped my fingers.

The driver kept honking for sometime but then stopped, visibly perplexed. I was suddenly scared.

I snapped my fingers many times that day. I applied the concept to all the drivers in Delhi in one snap. It was in the news that evening. A lot of drivers in the capital could not hear their car horns even though the rest of the world could hear it. There were discussions on television, scientists sat in panels, astrologers talked of doomsday. There was a deafening silence on the roads of Delhi. It was as if the city was put on mute. Suddenly everyone was scared of honking. That night there was a lightening bolt out of the clear sky near my house.

The Second bolt

Next night while watching television, I came across the news of a college principal fining girls in her college for wearing jeans. My eyes shone with mischief.

“All those who think wearing jeans leads to molestation must be fitted with permanent jeans,” I said and snapped my fingers.

The next day when India woke up, 90% of it was wearing permanent blue jeans. People could not take it off completely in any situation. While relieving yourself, the jeans would come down till the knees but then will wrap up automatically as soon as you are done. You have to wash them while wearing them. You have to take a bath while wearing them. It was again on news. Some people were crying like babies. Some people were laughing like crazy. Jeans clad citizen thronged temples, churches, Mosques and Gurudwaras for help. There was terror on their faces.

There was a lightening bolt that night near me when I was walking back home. I looked up and smiled.

The Third bolt

News of another scam broke out next day. It shared the front page with silent honks and permanent jeans.

“A tail should grow at the rate of 1 mm/10,000 Rs for all those who think public money to be their own,” I said and snapped my fingers.

In two days, a lot of influential people left the country for plastic surgeries in private jets. Some of them were not that fortunate as they had a kilometre long tail. They tried everything from axe, saw and acids, but the tails kept growing. No one had any idea why that was happening. Parliament stopped functioning. Top government officials went into hiding with their tails between their legs. Astrologers predicted that the end of the world was near.

The first set of people who understood what was happening were Police officers. Their tails grew slowly. Three lightning bolts fell near my house.

The fourth bolt

I was thinking of what to do next when I read the news of a girl being gang-raped in Haryana. How to tackle this in a way that it makes God laugh, I wondered. Then I smiled.

“Make a permanent sunflower grow instead of the organ during an assault,” I said and snapped my fingers.

When the next rape attempt happened in India, which was like in the next 5 minutes, the girl came out of the ordeal laughing, wiping tears from her eyes. She went straight to the media and told them that the moment the guy opened his zipper, a huge sunflower protruded out and the guy fainted. Soon media started calling it the ‘Sunflower Curse’. Any form of sexual assault on women and children started producing Sunflower men. The situation became so comical that soon there were mischievous posters on internet showing nude, crying men with a sunflower between their legs with a tagline – ‘Someone please deflower me!’ Sexual assaults went down to zero. Sunflower men did everything from making cows chew off their flowers to running after surgeons but the flora was permanent. Suddenly everyone forgot the silent honks, the permanent jeans and the corruption tails. The sunflower men were the latest laughing-stock.

It rained a few days later with ample lightning. That night, I was again on the cloud, dreaming but not dreaming.

“How the hell did you come up with that sunflower?” God asked after he had laughed enough.

“From old pictures where they used to cover private parts with flowers,” I said with a smile.

“What would you like to have in return?” God asked as he beamed.

“Can I have this power permanently?”

“I cannot do that dear boy. Ask for anything else.”

“Would you revert things to how they were or will you leave it as it is?”

“I have to revert. It was just for laughs.”

“Ok. So here is my wish. Revert it but go and tell each of those people that if they ever try to go back to their old ways, the change will happen again and it will be permanent this time.”

“Granted,” God said after pondering over it for a while.

When I woke up the next day, things were back to normal but India was a very different place. We were back to being humans. We were back to being loving and caring. Yes, it was out of fear but I was sure that after living like this for a few days, we would realize that this is the only true way to create a country worth living. I was sure that the need of God’s threat will vanish as time passes.

We had taken our first step towards creating a Utopian Indian Society.